Temptations of Hell
by Nick R
Summary: The scheming and games of the Queen of the Succabi (Chapter 5 up. Graphic)(Review please)
1. Into the Darkness

The tormented screams of the restless damned will slowly erode any mortal's sanity. The two inching their way through the paths of hell itself were no exception. Constant moans of agony and despair bombarded the two from every conceivable angle, even coming from the walls and the floor below their feet.  
  
Tanyana, pressed against the wall she only wished to be rock instead of human bones solidified together, made her way quietly down the passageway. Her companion followed, remaining as quiet as he knew how. With much caution, they slowly rounded a bend. The assassin's keen eye spotted a subtle movement in the distance. She held up her hand to Daghot in a fist, her signal to stop, shut up, not breathe. After the movement subsided, they inched their way silently toward the disturbance.  
  
As any assassin should, Tanyana knows the element of surprise. Peering into the gloom of absolute evil ahead of them, Tanyana had could not discern who, or what, had moved. The actions of their possible adversary made her fear that perhaps, whatever it was, it very well could be familiar with the advantage of surprise as well. The assassin quietly strapped her spiked gloves on, while Daghot unsheathed a large dagger from on his hip. The midnight black blade was silent as it was drawn, and the necromancer held it front of him with both hands on the blade, pommel up. Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer to Trang-Oul. He opened his eyes to stare at the base of the pommel, which was a skull, minus the jawbone, etched into the steel. The eyes began to pulse green with magical energy, and the necromancer smiled.  
  
The passageway widened into a small room, now perhaps twenty feet wide. The path split 3 ways on the far side of the room, about 30 feet away. The movement had come, as far as the assassin could tell, from the far left of the room. She held up 3 fingers to the necromancer. Three became two. Two became one. As one became none, the assassin snatched a glass flask of from her belt and threw it at the estimated source of the movement with blinding speed. As the volatile liquid erupted into a fireball, the room lit up from the flame. With the light, she realized her error. The demon resembled a lion in size and speed, and in appearance somewhat. It differed too, its teeth and claws twice as big as the jungle cat's, and lacked hair except for its black mane. The rest of its body was a dark red skin. She cursed as she saw the demon cat had tricked her, and he was crouched against the right wall, about 5 feet from her, ready to pounce.  
  
Tanyana, thinking it the end, instinctively put her arms up to guard her face. As the cat leaned back on its hind legs to pounce, it suddenly lost its balance for a split second, which gave Tanyana the time needed to roll away. She looked to see Daghot's arm extended. His thrown dagger flew end over end toward the demon-cat, and its pommel struck the cat in its skull, to then fall downwards and stick in the ground, pommel up. Tanyana looked on with fear as the dagger hadn't struck true, and couldn't figure out why Daghot was smiling. The cat averted his attention toward the necromancer, and lept towards him. As the cat left the ground, the ground directly below the protruding dagger erupted forming a creature of iron immediately. The iron thing reached out a humanoid arm and caught the demon by its hind leg in mid jump. The cat came to an abrupt stop with a sickening crack. Daghot's golem swung the cat into the wall, and the force of the impact separated the cat's leg from the rest of its body. Grabbing the cat by its rib cage, the golem flung it across the room, where Tanyana waited. She ducked low and stuck up her artifical claws and skewered the beast. The golem threw the lion with such a force that as the claws bit through the hide, Tanyana was pulled with the beast. She set herself in a backflip, and pulled out her claws in mid air. As she landed on her feet, one foot landed hard heel-first on the beast's neck. The beast gave a slight wheeze of pain, and then silenced.  
  
The two only had a second to reflect on their kill when screams of agony and deep growls came from every direction except the fork that led to the right. "Run, this way!" the necromancer yelled as he began to flee that way, with Tanyana right on his heels. He mentally commanded his golem to remain in the room and facilitate their escape. The mindless hulk obeyed. The two ran down the tunnel for only a few seconds, when the Daghot exclaimed "Dammit, my dagger!" "Get it quick!" the assassin yelled as she stopped running and reguarded him. He quickly reversed directions and made a dash for the dagger. Upon reaching the dagger, the cries of agony were almost deafening. He saw his golem in the middle of the room, awaiting the legions of hell indifferently. "They must be CLOSE, its so damned loud!" the necromancer thought as he reversed directions again. Suddenly, all the cries died out abruptly. All but one. A woman's scream of terror coming from ahead of Daghot. He tried to stop suddenly, but lost his footing and landed hard on his chest and elbows. Realizing that the scream had sounded as if it could have been formed from his companion's vocals, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward where she had stayed. Nothing. Breathing heavy, he looked around frantically. "Tanyana!" he yelled. "Where are you? TANYANA!?" The only response to his cries was his own echo, which made his voice sound terrified and helpless as it repeated down the long dark tunnel.  
  
Suddenly the tormented moans of the damned began again, echoing toward him from down the tunnel. The moans became everything from women screaming to roars of demons that, by the sound of their voices, were too huge to fit into a large arena, let alone these small tunnels of the damned. They became louder, sounding as if they closed in upon him with speed that rivaled even the fastest unencumbered steed. Terror overtook the necromancer, and he turned the other way yet again to run back to the room of the slain cat-demon.  
  
He returned to the room to find his golem in exactly the same spot, a sentinel of iron. Daghot ran to the center of the room and silence once again overtook the necromancer. He heard only his frantic steps and his heavy breathing as he darted in circles scanning every tunnel, awaiting oblivion to consume him in droves of demons. They never came.  
  
Clutching his dagger, Daghot stalked down the tunnel where Tanyana had vanished, with his golem following closely. The only thing he heard now were the muffled moans of agony in the distance, the sounds of an eternity of damnation.  
  
He followed the tunnel for what might have been hours, but was probably less than twenty minutes. In the distance, he saw something that gave him hope. For some reason, even though it was pitch-black, he saw Tanyana slowly walking around a room, looking this way and that as if lost. "Trang- Oul has blessed my sight," he thought as he made his way to his wayward companion. Tanyana saw him as well, and put a finger to her lips telling him to be silent. He nodded as she motioned for him to come to her. Quickly and quietly the necromancer closed the distance between them. The tunnel opened up into another room and as he passed through the threshold his surroundings changed. Tanyana was still in front of him, but not how he had seen a second ago. Now only her head was visible, half covered in blood, on a spike in the center of the room. Daghot screamed and his screams were answered by more screams of the damned.  
  
He turned to run and ran straight into a wall of dead. Some ancient, some still decaying, and some fresh. He recognized Tanyana's arm was now part of the wall, complete with its artifical claw as he fell backward. Panicking, he scrambled back to his feet and his head whipped in all around, looking in everywhere for an escape route. Instead he found that this large room, perhaps seventy feet in all directions, was completely enclosed with walls of dead bodies. He began to shake in terror as he fell backward and landed on his rear. He sat there, enthralled by fear and helplessness.  
  
A throne suddenly became visible, as well as its host. Rising to her feet was perfection personified, a naked woman of such sheer beauty that Daghot was dumbfounded. "Welcome, Daghot" she said in a voice that made the necromancer smile despite himself. The voice echoed repeatedly, each time waves of total pleasure overtook the necromancer. She walked slowly, sensually toward him as he just stared with empty eyes at her as his mouth hung open and smiling. "Welcome to my throne. I am Neventesia, and you belong to me now." 


	2. Neventesia

As the dark beauty approached, Daghot's subconscious battled his with him to regain control of his body. When Neventesia was halfway across the room, she plucked Tanyana's head from its post and held it above her own face. An abnormally long and incredibly sexy tongue protruded from her mouth as the sweet blood dripped down just a few drops at a time onto it. The beauty flung the head across the room, licked her lips and started toward the necromancer again. The "thud" of his former companion's head landing on the ground snapped him out of his present state. He jumped to his feet and saw Neventesia's true form for the first time. Her bare body was still the perfect shape, but now there were small wings protruding from her shoulderblades. Her skin had a bluish tint to it, and her hair and eyes were blood red. She had the two fangs of a vampire.  
  
"Keep your distance, demon!" Daghot yelled as he pointed his dagger toward her and uttered an arcane language. A lance of solid bone sprang out from the floor angled to impale the creature directly between her perfect breasts. A second before hitting its mark, the lance stopped with a wave of her hand. She looked down at it and smiled as she walked around it. "Impressive, my love" she cooed. "You are doing well! How fortunate you have already seen my true form! You already prove to be falling in line!" "Falling in line?" Daghot asked and, not waiting for a reply, launched a grouping of fangs from his dagger at the creature. Again she raised her hand, and the teeth flew in every direction except at the intended target.  
  
Neventesia laughed, a laugh that made Daghot consider lowering his weapon and begging for forgiveness. "Come to me, my love," she said as she extended her arms in invitation. Only through a fantastic exertion of will did he stand fast. "Leave me be, vile thing! You have no power over me!" "Oh, come now, my love." she said as she closed the distance. "You have done well. If you hadn't seen my true form through your own power, what I plan to do would have become extremely more tiresome," she said through a smile. As she came within arms reach of the necromancer, he swung his blade at her long seductive neck. She screamed in mock fear and recoiled as if she were afraid. The necromancer immediately dropped his dagger mid swing and fell to his knees. She gently touched his chin with her thumb and forefinger and led him back to his feet. "Take me, my love!" she commanded as she rubbed her perfect naked body against his.  
  
"No!" he yelled as he shoved her away. Any lesser man would have given in long ago. She stood back and looked sincerely heartbroken. He ran at her and grabbed her in a loving embrace. "I'm so sorry, my lo- No!" He yelled again as he threw her on the ground. She landed on her back and looked up at him with inviting eyes. She spread her legs and began to touch herself, moaning and rubbing her backside against the ground. "Take me, my love," she whispered through panting breaths.  
  
The next thing the necromancer knew he was naked and erect, moving toward the temptress. He must have done it himself because she remained on the ground, legs still spread, waiting, staring with excited eyes. "Take me! I am yours to do what you will with!" she said with a renewed vigor. His subconscious battled him every step he took, but the temptation was too overwhelming. He kneeled down on the floor in front of the temptress, her womanhood a less then a foot from his face. He looked at her like a lost puppy, asking for permission. "Taste it, my love. Taste it and love me." He leaned over and licked it once timidly, then with increasing aggression. "Oh yes!" She moaned. A sensation of pleasure and a taste of something that rivaled the sweetest fruit overcame him. "No! NO!" His subconscious screamed, but he wasn't listening. "Take me! NOW!" She screamed. He listened. He climbed atop of her and began to thrust, a pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. Again, he thrust. And again. For what seemed like hours, days, or weeks. "Yes, yes, yes! Let me have it all!" As he released his mounting passion, he moaned in ecstasy.  
  
She was on her feet instantly, looking satisfied. He remained on his hands and knees, staring at her with adoring eyes. Adoring red eyes. She laughed. "Get on your feet slave!" She commanded. He obeyed instantly. "Know this! I am Neventesia, queen of the succabi, and you are now mine." 


	3. The Forging of Saradom

Daghot stood in Neventesia's throne room, afraid to meet the gaze of his queen but also unable to divert his vision from the dark beauty. Any memories of himself were gone, knowing only unrivaled loyalty to his new master. A demonic red flame awoke in his eyes, never to be extinguished. His subconscious mind would remain quiet evermore.  
  
"Now, my child," Neventesia began. "You serve only one. Whom do you serve?" "You, my queen," Daghot replied with a voice that was almost his own, but somehow darker. Smiling, Neventesia slowly turned around and made her way back to her throne. She bade her slave to follow, which he did unquestioningly. "You gave into your temptations willingly, weather you realize it or not," Neventesia started as she sat. "You saw me as I truly am, and still you couldn't stop yourself. None can. Had you given in before seeing the true Neventesia, it would have accomplished only sating my desires for a short time. Willingly, you surrendered your body and soul to me." Daghot didn't care about the how or why of what had happened to him, as long as it happened again. Neventesia knew this as well, but she reveled in her own power. She told Daghot the truth just to show herself the total control she wielded over him.  
  
"I first came to you as a woman of peak physical beauty. Your own willpower caused you to see through the facade quickly, which made me want you and your power as my own that much more. You lasted longer than most, and for that I commend you. It took almost an entire two minutes before you tasted me," Neventesia said through a shrill laugh. "Nevertheless," she continued, "you did taste me, and now you are mine. Was it good?" Daghot nodded excitedly as Neventesia spread her legs and touched herself. "Of course it was. Would you like to partake of me again?" The necromancer nodded furiously as he began to move towards her. "STOP!" Neventesia bellowed the command, which made Daghot's world shake. He dropped to his knees and looked up at her, his eyes pleading. "You will taste me again, my necromancer. But not yet. First you must do as I command." "Anything, my queen," Daghot replied. "I do not doubt that, slave. Your powers as you knew them are no more, as you are no longer loyal to the teachings of Rathma or Trang-Oul. You still remain a conduit of power, however, and your magics are now more powerful than you have ever known. Hell itself is now the supplicant for you."  
  
Neventesia arose and made her way toward the necromancer. "You will go to Denfent, a civilization to the south-west of Tristram. You will put an end to the plague of demons that I sent there just recently and gain the trust of the townsfolk. You already know what you must do. It is in Denfent that my will shall become legion." The succubus walked in a slow circle around Daghot, gently running her erotic fingers under his chin. "I shall obey your will, my queen," the necromancer said while rising. "The people of Denfent will soon be yours to command."  
  
With a wave of Neventesia's hand, a shimmering portal appeared in the midst of the dark chamber. The demon queen looked Daghot up and down and shook her head. "Come now," she giggled, "no true hero of the light will arrive to save the world naked and lacking weapons!" With another wave of her hand, the necromancer found himself wielding a femur bone tipped with a skull that dripped a steady flow of blood from its orifices. He wore a suit of black full-plate armor, with dagger-like bones protruding from it. A black helm was on his head, a red skull superimposed at his forehead. His gauntlets, which were also black and had small bone spikes protruding from the knuckles, crackled with raw energy as he moved his fingers. The pale necromancer grinned approvingly.  
  
"Go now Dagh-," Neventesia began, "No, you will no longer be known as that, necromancer. I shall call you Saradom. You will be the harbinger of my will to the world of mortals. Make them obey! You know what must be done! Now, make it so!" With that, Neventesia sent Saradom through the portal.  
  
Saradom found himself standing in a plush green field. To the south he saw civilization, which he knew must be the land called Denfent. He grabbed the base of his weapon, which was no longer a rod but felt to be the pommel of a sword. He looked down and was almost blinded. His armor was no longer an unholy black plate, but a highly polished silver with the impression of the head of a noble lion upon it. His skin was no longer pale but tanned almost to the shade of the men of the north. He could feel his muscles bulging about as he moved his arms, his body no longer slender. He imagined himself to look like a warrior sent straight from the heavens. He grinned at that notion as he began the trek toward the village. 


	4. Thespan and the Departure of Fesnik

The rider had been traveling west for 3 days. He was a stout lad of 15 winters, but he was exhausted almost as much as his steed. For most of the first day he rode with evil things in pursuit, pushing his horse its limits. The demons had lost much ground to the rider, but he was sure that they still followed. He had heard of the tenacity of the denizens of hell in stories from the adults of his homeland, Denfent. If he stopped to rest for the night they would overtake him in his sleep and drag him to a fate worse than death, he was sure.  
  
At around midday, he saw his destination. The village of Fesnik. His mother had sent him to Fesnik as the demons began to show themselves in greater numbers. Already many in his village were killed or dragged of screaming into the night, only to return hours later as dead things that simply would not stay dead. His two older brothers and his father were all skilled with a weapon, his father having served in the militia and passing down the knowledge of war to his sons. Even the rider had slain 3 imp- things and a dog-sized demon, which leapt about with blinding quickness. He didn't want to leave his family, but he did feel relieved when he had left the town. At least out here he didn't have to fear demons.  
  
He arrived at the gates of the village and practically fell off his horse. The haggard boy ran to the first man he saw and delivered the package he had been sent with. Thomasin, the leather-worker of Fesnik opened the pouch the boy carried, looked in and dropped it with a startled cry as he backed away despite himself. A gruesome imp-head rolled out of the pouch onto the earth, its protruding tongue swollen from rigor mortis. The smell of the decaying demon-flesh was repulsive, a horrible stench of death and putrescence. The lad lay barely conscious. Thomasin could tell the boy must be very hungry and almost dehydrated completely. He picked the lad up and carried him to the chapel of Fesnik.  
  
The boy lay in the chapel on a bed put together by the caring priests. A nun was charged with caring for the boy, which she did with the caring of a mother. Three priests, Thomasin, and a few other men of Fesnik were gathered, trying to figure out just what had happened to the lad and his family. The nun came in suddenly, with a grave look on her face. "How is he?" one of the priests asked. "Fine, fine. He woke a few minutes ago and asked if he were in heaven. 'Not quite, but you are with God' I said. He smiled and pulled this from his pocket ." The nun handed the priest a crumpled sheet of half-torn parchment.  
  
DENFENT UNDER ATTACK. DEMONS BY THE SCORE. PLEASE HELP US. WE FIGHT BUT THERE ARE TOO MANY. IF YOU CANNOT HELP, THEN LEAVE THIS COUNTRY SOON. THERE WILL BE MORE. PLEASE HURRY.  
  
The priest thanked the nun and she went back to the boy. He read the note aloud to those gathered and looked about the room. Thomasin looked at his feet and shook his head slowly. "What are we to do?" he asked. "We are no warriors, and it would take us days to reach Denfent even if we were." "I do not know, my son." replied the priest. "We will ask those who would help to go, while we organize for the departure of Fesnik for a safer realm." replied another. "Please," Thomasin said, "do you think any would go voluntarily to a fate worse than death? We are but farmers and smithies, not soldiers!" "Still, we must seek to defend our kind. Do we let the folk of Denfent befall that fate alone? Do we not offer any aide to them?" another priest asked. "What do we do?"  
  
The nun returned, telling the gathering that the folk of Denfent still fight valiantly, but each one that falls or is taken rises again and bolsters the ranks of the damned. "They come back as zombies, striking at their own kin they gave their life defending!" "We leave," the head priest decided. "There is nothing we can do for the poor people of Denfent. This lad was probably followed here, and I do not doubt it that if we do not leave soon, we will share their fate. Spread the word, take only what you need to survive." Thomasin wiped a tear from his eye as he nodded and left the chapel, followed by the rest of the men. "We leave at dawn on the morrow!"  
  
The next morning the caravan set out, the men armed with whatever weapon they deemed best from the sorry supply the village had. The elderly and the very young packed into wagons, while those who could walk did. An honorable woman of the village who was seven months pregnant chose to walk, so her mother could sit. She did not complain at all as they began their trek to the east.  
  
As the day grew darker, the caravan came to a halt as the refugees made camp. The man who had the night watch had spotted a man in armor approach the caravan and raised the alarm. The men got their weapons as the women and children found cover. The man approached with his helmet off and hands raised in the air as a sign of peace. Three of the men mounted horses and headed out to meet the traveler, weapons at the ready. To see a lone man at night in these times of trouble did not bode well for the men of the village of Fesnik.  
  
As they reached the traveler, once man let out a heavy sigh of relief. In his torchlight he could see the markings of the church of Zakarum on his armor. The paladin spoke first. "How fare you, good sirs? I come from the kingdoms of the west to spread the word of God. I am Thespan, chief paladin in the order of the Zakarum." The men invited the noble paladin to the campsite, where they and the priests told him of the lad on the horse and the troubles of Denfent. The paladin listened, and as soon as he heard of demons to the east he had heard enough. He stood atop a wagon and spoke to the refuges of Fesnik. "Brothers and sisters, return to your homes! I have slain many demons in the name of Heaven, and I shall do so again! Worry not, I leave for Denfent immediately, and I will slay any creature not of the light!" Thespan spoke as the glow from the campfire enshrouded his body, making him look truly to be an ambassador from the Heavens in this dark hour. "Fear not the foul creatures of evil, there will be none that can withstand the righteous retribution of the Heavens!" The people of Fesnik cheered as the paladin leapt from atop his perch and began his trek to the east. Thomasin called to Thespan. "Take this steed! He is the fastest in Fesnik and he should bear you to Denfent in two days time." The paladin accepted the noble horse and set out on the road to retribution. 


	5. Father of the Bride

Saradom reached Denfent at dusk. The village was in shambles; houses were burnt, dead things littered the streets. He held back an evil smile as he entered the now-wrecked gate of the village. People ran hurriedly about, trying to get the last of their work done before the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon. In a booming voice he yelled, "People of Denfent! I know of the evil that plagues your city, fear not! I am of the north and I have come as the cure! Scurry not into hiding at the fall of the sun, those who would damn you will do so no more!" People looked out their window looking for the lunatic who would challenge the legions of hell. One by one the people of Denfent realized that their "lunatic" brandished a shimmering sword and beautiful armor and walked about their tainted streets showing no fear. They felt hope for the first time in weeks.  
  
The people watched in awe as their angelic looking visitor strode up and down the streets calling to them, claiming to be their savior. As the last vestiges of day vanished from view, the howls of the damned filled all of them with fear. All but one. Saradom walked cockily about, awaiting contact with the demons. As they began to harass the outskirts of town, like they did in the beginning of every night, he broke into an all out sprit toward them. The demons covered their eyes, as even the reflection of moonlight from his armor was painful to their dark loving eyes. They grew furious and charged the necromancer, at least 15 strong. Women who watched from their windows covered their eyes, fearing this brave but foolish man would get disemboweled, or worse, for his courage. As they closed upon the gleaming warrior, he held his sword out and it crackled with raw energy and enveloped four of the impish horrors, leaving nothing but charred bones and ash. The rest of the creatures dove to the ground seeking shelter from the hated warrior of good.  
  
Suddenly three leaping things sprang at the necromancer, each from a different angle. In blinding speed, Saradom swung his sword once, twice, cleaving two of the creatures in mid flight. As he finished his spin, the third was a mere eight inches from his face, claws swinging frantically. He reached out with his left hand and caught the demon by the neck. He looked it in the eyes as his flashed red quickly, and it turned to crumpling dust in his grip.  
  
Now they were all about him, the few seconds it took for him to fend off the leapers gave the imp-things time to regroup. These imps were far from intelligent, but what they did know was how to kill, maim and torture. They planned on the latter for the shiny man. He smirked as they closed upon him, sword resting on his shoulder with his free hand extended palm out. Over a dozen razor sharp red-tinted bones erupted from the earth, instantaneously impaling each and every attacker. Saradom winked at the closest one as he shouted an arcane word, and each imp burst into flames.  
  
Saradom looked at one of the bones, and they all disappeared back into the ground, leaving only a heaping pile charred flesh where they had been. One of the few remaining demons near him ran at him from behind screaming, little sword held over his head. As the necromancer was about to dispatch this thing easily, her voice echoed in his mind. "Let it injure you Saradom. Make these mortals love you even more, being wounded for them." Saradom smiled as the blade bit into his calf, collapsing him. He rolled onto his back as fangs shot from his fingertips, leaving a gaping hole in the imp. It looked down at where its stomach used to be, awe struck, as it collapsed dead.  
  
A brave girl ran from the house closest to the wounded "hero", while shouts of a man inside ordered her back in. She ignored the commands and ran to Saradom, helping him up. As soon as they were back on their feet, the woman screamed as a huge cat-demon flew toward her. Saradom leapt forward and collided with the demon, and his fingertips exploded into ten eight- inch claws. He landed atop the beast and ripped it to shreds. The remaining demons fled the village as the townsfolk, getting a rush of courage from seeing a young girl of only fourteen winters come to their hero's aide, flooded the streets with crude clubs, hammers, kitchen knives and anything else they could use as a weapon. As the last demon disappeared into the darkness, the people cheered for their mysterious benefactor. He lay there, feigning injury as the young girl ran to him and cradled his head. She looked into his eyes for a brief moment and blushed, looked away, and looked back, staring in awe at his angelic face.  
  
The people crowded around the enthralled girl and their injured savior. They hoisted him up and carried him into the nearest house and lay him on a bed. "How bad are you hurt, m'lord?" one of the women asked. "I'll be fine, I think." he said as he feigned pain. For some reason he now felt no pain at all. His queen endowed him with great powers indeed! A man spoke, "We would call for the priest to heal you," and Saradom's head whipped in his direction, staring him down. "But he was one of the first ones killed by the evil things." Thorough indeed, my queen. Thorough indeed. "I need no priest, good sir, I can heal myself somewhat. Enough to get around for the time being." He touched his finger to the wound and it closed up, leaving only a thick scab. "A healer from the heavens!" one of the ladies gasped. Saradom smiled. "Yes, I am."  
  
As the town calmed down, people left the house seeking their beds. Saradom chose to stay at the house he had been carried into, although all the women had offered him quarter. It almost appeared that they tried to top one another, beds getting bigger and breakfast getting grander as they argued amongst themselves. In the end the disappointed women left, planning to get his attention the next day.  
  
After he was left to himself for an hour or so, the young girl who had helped him during the battle crept into his room and knelt next to him, staring. He pretended to sleep and stirred to consciousness. "Hello, beautiful. I am glad you have come to me." "I couldn't stay away, your presence is enchanting." "Is it, now?" He reached out and touched her face gently, while she reached for his hand and shivered. She leaned over and kissed his lips, pawing at his face. Still kissing, he sat up and pushed her away. He motioned for her to lay on the bed, and she did, removing her clothes. He got up and stood at the foot of the bed, while the young girl stared. "Enchanting, am I?" He thrust his arms out to the side and in a brilliant flash, he looked as he had before leaving the queen. The girl's face twisted in horror as she tried to get up and run, but shackles of bone appeared and held her fast. A gag also appeared and cut off her scream. The shackles moved about the bed, spreading her legs as she lay squirming. He smiled as he slowly removed his armor and climbed atop the girl. Inside of her we went, the girl trying to scream but to no avail. Again and again he invaded her, as her muffled screams transformed into moans of a pleasure unconceivable. Slowly the shackles and the gag faded as Saradom continued to ravage the young one. "Yes, yes, I am yours! I need only you my lord! Yes!" She screamed in ecstasy as he continued to pump. He was smiling as he released himself inside of her, and she shook almost violently. He stared at her shaking form, her eyes closed as she gripped for anything she could hold on to. She opened her eyes, red eyes, and stared at Saradom. "What do you ask of me, my lord," she asked as she bowed her head. He gently lifted her head to meet his gaze. She nodded after staring into her master's eyes for a time, and got up.  
  
Still naked, the young girl took a knife from the kitchen and went to her father's room. He awoke to seeing his fanged, red-eyed daughter flying through the air at him. She landed and plunged the knife into his chest. Blood began to bubble up from his mouth, and she kissed him on the lips. She kissed him deeply. As his last breath escaped his lungs, the girl proceeded to cut him into little pieces.  
  
She returned to Saradom after she finished with her father. He kissed her, savoring the taste of blood. "Tomorrow, we invite your friends over to "play". With that he took her once more. 


End file.
